Ultimatum
by Quintessentia
Summary: There is nowhere to go from here..." Sometimes Sam thinks too much. ApocaFic!


I HAVE RETURNED!!! As you can see, I am in fact, not dead, and I come bearing my very first Supernatural fic! Please be gentle and tell me how I did. I have a couple other stories in the works, and if you like Evil!Sam/Evil!Dean Wincest (yes,I am a rabid fan) then you'll have something to look forward too.

Title: Ultimatum

Rating: PG (K+)

Warnings: Apocafic!, general disturbingness.

Spoilers: None, really. Slightly AU for the end of 3x16, and stays that way until the end.

Word count: 1,013

Summary: "There is nowhere to go from here..." Sometimes Sam thinks too much. NOT WINCEST. (unfortunately.)

Pairings: None, really.

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, or even one of the boys (coughDeancough), do you think i'd be ruining their lives in Fanfiction?

Enjoy and Review!

* * *

On the day Dean Winchester makes a deal with a demon, he and his brother kill the monster that took away any semblance of something that could be called their future, and neither bothers to celebrate.

Why should they, when the older of the two is destined for hell in a year and the younger has been damned since infancy? What reason could either of them possibly have for smiles and fruitless hopes right now?

Sam looks at the wetness in his savior's eyes and the gash on his face that tell of just how far Dean is willing to go for someone who had no future in the first place, and decides that he can do just as much in return. Dean has given up the only thing he has, the one thing he should never have to give away, and Sam knows that he deserves better.

Sam tells Dean that he's going to save him this time, and thinks; _there's nowhere to go from here but up._

-.-

One year after Dean makes his deal, Sam watches his brother die, ripped apart by hellhounds in a dry, open field somewhere in Illinois. Dean had handcuffed him to the Impala's side door handle a mile back, and told him that he'd called Bobby; that the man would find him very soon. Dean's face had looked worn, sad when he had left him there and told him _take care of yourself, little brother. I have nothing left to give. _

It had taken him two minutes of watching Dean disappear from his sight, three minutes of angry sobs, and another five to get free, to find himself sprinting down the abandoned highway after the last of his humanity. He had been too late, or rather, just in time, to see his brother fall to the ground, pushed by an invisible force, and witness the blood sink into the dead earth.

Now, his eyes burn with hot, useless tears as he wipes the blood from Dean's lips and thinks, _there is nowhere to go but down._

-.-

The world is ash.

Earlier, before the fires of hell ate up the ground and smoke blocked out the sun and sky, people ran screaming in different directions, some trying to save their loved ones, others, the ones who had already lost everything, had simply sat in the light of the flaming trees and turned to ash right along with the crackling wood.

The demons that had carried out his work, had wrought havoc and hell upon the God-forsaken earth, shrieked and shouted with bountiful glee at the blood and destruction that was now what had once been a place of light and hope. Now all that remains is the light of the last embers of that hope going out, blood and despair taking its place in the polluted atmosphere.

The desolation and loss that have settled around him should rupture the tattered remains of his soul, should make him howl with agony and defeat, but they don't. He thinks maybe they would if the world hadn't burned on his orders, if the agony hadn't already marred his soul beyond recognition, if the hurt and the blood and the complete and utter devastation had been anything different than his own world after _his_ death.

It might have been easier just to end it all the day that his world was ended, just to swallow that soothing cold barrel and pull the trigger. He never did, because Dean had died for him, and he wouldn't let that go to waste. So he gathered his strength, what was left of it, and honed his abilities, called on Ruby for her help and her blood, and when he knew he was ready, he summoned an army to lay waste to a world that had no meaning for him, not anymore.

A gun or a sharp blade would tempt him now and then, try to seduce him with promises of death and darkness, where he could finally embrace the side of him that had lain dormant for so long, where he could rescue the soul of his only brother, and reclaim him again. He never gave in, knew that he still had work to do, and anyway, it wouldn't matter what he did, no gun or blade could kill what he had become.

He turns his back on the sizzling, charred remains of the earth and thinks; _there is nowhere to go from here._

-.-

Two years after a brother sold his soul for precious, damaged goods, another goes back to the place where the earth shuddered and stopped in its tracks.

He stands where his older brother's cold, bleeding corpse rested exactly one year ago, now incased in a hard cement box, carved over with rituals of protection to keep unwanted evils out.

The field is still dead, now just black soot, and dry, twisted weeds that poke up from the ground like gnarled, accusing fingers poking at the red stained sky. There is no hope, there is no life or love or _SammyandDean_ any longer, just death and unhappy endings.

He stares down at the engraved box in front of him and raises the Colt to the empty spot where he thinks he used to have a heart, back when he had a reason for one. He doesn't feel anything any longer, just a cold bleakness he's gotten used to lately and tries not to wonder what Dean will say when he sees his pride and joy, his baby brother on a throne in hell, and how he will explain what he did with Dean's sacrifice for him.

He pulls the trigger soundlessly and watches his blood seep slowly over the sides of his brother's coffin before falling forward over the stone with barely more than a thump.

Sam Winchester shoots himself on top of Dean's grave in the middle of a field somewhere in what used to be Illinois, and listens as the trumpets of hell and the screams of the suffering welcome him back.

He frees himself from his curse of thinking things through anymore.

* * *

Weeeeeeee!!! Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, and do me a favor and tell me how I did because i'm not sure if I should post my other stuff or not. Toodles!


End file.
